


Accrued Debt

by Forthelore



Category: South Park
Genre: Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Eric Cartman needs a hug, Kenny what is you doin' boo?, Kyle Broflovski is one angry BAMF, M/M, Stanley Marsh Is An Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-28 01:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthelore/pseuds/Forthelore
Summary: And as much as he enjoyed the way that Kyle fit in his grasp, he wouldn't do that to the redhead. He had too much fire to be put out. There was no possible way that Eric could handle watching the flames die.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this on and off on my FF.net account, and decided I should post it here to, and MAYBE since I read more on here I'll be more likely to update it? But who knows! I hope you guys enjoy either way!

Chapter 1

“Shit, fuck shit,” His breath puffed in him as he stumbled down the frozen alley. The alcohol had reached his limits far faster than he had expected. But hell, Cartman wasn't supposed to just show up on his doorstep either. “Fuck,” Kyle hicced as he nearly lost his balance. A soft grin found its way to his lips when Eric's laughter echoed down the alley. 

“C'mon Ky, walk straighter man. Your mom is gonna know you're wasted if you don't.” Cartman's overly warm hand planted itself just between Kyle's shoulder blades. It nearly sent the redhead reeling into the snow. “How much did you drink?”

“Enough!” Kyle hummed happily as he struggled to straighten himself up. The floor swayed beneath his feet, which found the redhead leaning against his super best friend; who was definitely, in no absolute manner, holding him closer than he should. Nope. Because Eric Cartman was irrevocably, one hundred percent, as absolute as infinity is never ending, straight.

“Hm,” Eric scuffed arching a brow as he stumbled along with the redhead—the one who had, just a month back, been a partyless prude that did nothing but study. It was crazy, to think how much could really change within a month. 

He only wished that he had been the cause of the change.

*~*~*

January 3rd

Kyle was angry.

That was the only way Eric could break it down. Typically, the redhead was agressively verbal; not afraid to yell at the person closest to him for even breathing. It was erratic, erotic, and eruptive. Watching Kyle lose his temper was certainly one of Eric's favorite thing. There was nothing, after all, like watching his friend's skin bubble and boil until it flew from his mouth in raging sputum. After which, his face would flush when the embarassment of showing such raw emotion set in. He would sink into himself, and then hunker off to some corner of the school, and the rotund boy probably wouldn't see him again until the end of the day. Notably, after Kyle had a chance to calm down.

So when he stormed into the classroom, his books held tightly to his chest, and his face well flushed with the pending rage...well Eric found himself leaning forward in his seat. 

“Jew,” He whispered, making sure his breath hit Kyle's neck just right. It sent a thrill up his legs when he noticed the blood rush even further into Kyle's face. But Eric didn't let it travel too far, before he managed to stamp it out. He would never let it reach the one part that he kept protected; he would never let it reach his heart. Because if he allowed it to reach his heart, then he had lost the war to hate him. But, wouldn't that just be poetic? To love a man, if only, because you hate him? Even Shakespeare couldn't write such a tragedy. “What crawled up your vagina?” Eric leaned back, watching; waiting for the words to sink into the brain of the boy before him.

It took approximately .13 seconds. Kyle's hair first turned the same shade of red as his hair, and the vein on the upper left occipital pulsed under the porcelain skin. A flower was about to bloom; Eric had fed it enough light for it to grow, even when locked inside a closet with no access to photosynthetic particles.  
“Shut the fuck up, fatass.” Kyle hissed under his breath. He couldn't be too loud; couldn't be caught by the teacher. Because if there was anything that was absolute about the redhead (other than his temper), it was that he was an assured teacher's pet. Fuck, there were days where Eric could almost imagine a set of bright orange tabby cat ears perched on top of Kyle's head as the boy purred under the teacher's compliments. Once, after he had called him out on it, Kyle had simply sneered and suggested that it was to get ahead.

Of course, Kenny had to go and ruin the moment by snickering at some adult joke to be made. But Eric had his high; had gotten Kyle angry enough to see the sparks ignite. Some days, luckily, that was all he needed.

Today, was not one of those days. No, today, Eric wanted to see Kyle Broflovski explode in what could only equate to Mount Vesuvias. He wanted to watch the boy build up and build up until he mentally, physically, and emotionally couldn't take anymore. Then, when the tip of the iceberg began to hit the titanic, and the ship was bound to sink, Eric Cartman planned to make Kyle his. He planned to be the bandaid that mother's applied only to be ripped off later. It was a genius scheme, the brunette had told himself several times in order to clear any confusion. A scheme that called for him to do things to, for, and with Kyle that he would never do otherwise. But first and foremost, Eric had to get the redhead's trust. And to do that, Eric had to play selectively nice.

“Tsk tsk,” Eric clucked his tongue. The vein was starting to throb; pulsing in time with the boy's heart as a tempo began its own rhythm inside Kyle's body. “I just wanted to know what made you angry.”

“Fuck. Off.” Kyle seethed sinking lower into his seat. His shoulder's hunched forward, as if he was trying to sheild himself from an oncoming storm. If only the redhead knew exactly what Eric had in store for him. Luckily for the latter, Kyle was not a psychic, nor was he able to predict the future. So when Cartman sighed dramatically against the back of Kyle's neck, leaning back in his seat slowly, he had no idea it would send goosebumps up his arms; or that the simple motion of warmth spreading across the nape would cause a pleasure that very quickly skyrocketed from his toes to his head.

Cartman could almost see the hair stand on end. Kyle ground his jaw to keep himself grounded; the reaction was marvelous. Eric could almost taste the frustration that seemed to ooze off the redhead in stroves; fuck, he could almost see it if he squinted hard enough and tilted his head just so. A soft pleasured groan escaped from the back of his throat. It was nearly orgasmic to watch the redhead squirm.

Alas, as good things do, class began and Cartman had to pay attention and take notes lest he fall behind. Then where exactly would that put him? A lower grade, and having to catch up, which, in turn, would leave him with less time to bug Kyle. Fortunate as he was though, class didn't seem to last as long as the clock hand said it had. Lunch would be in a nother two hours, and he was without the redhead for his next class. Not a big deal, for he would certainly see him at lunch—the most dreaded hour.

Why?

Because Eric Cartman hated sharing, and what's more, he hated sharing the attention of his affection with a certain raven haired football player. 

It certainly wasn't Stanley's fault that he was the apple of Kyle's eye. He hadn't gone into their friendship thinking to land Kyle in the sack, or whatever term of endearment the other's were using now a days. Fuck if Cartman knew. It wasn't like the husky boy had ever had someone he wanted to cling to, or talk to constantly. In elementary, and middle school it had been sickening. Eric couldn't recall a day passing by when he didn't feel that ball of sickening vomit build up because of the bond that stretched between the two. Or, he couldn't until he had reached eighth grade. That's when the damned butterflies started.

Kyle had been red faced and screaming at him like it had been entirely his fault for the nude photo being leaked. It was, but Cartman wasn't going to claim that, why make it so easy? Kyle was always angrier when he didn't know exactly where to place his anger. Cartman had noted that it was like watching a confrontation all of its own. But the best part, was it was internal to the redhead. Eric could watch the play by play going on inside Kyle's head through his eyes. 

And don't even get him started on the disgusting greeness of those eyes. They were too bright and too vivid to belong to anyone other than the damned ginger jew. He was pretty sure that they put even the purest of emerald to shame in; and made any peridot as jealous as jade could get. That had been the very first thing he noticed when he first met the kid. Either way, he digress.

“How rude,” Eric purred leaning back in his seat. “Wasn't that rude Butters?” He glared at the blonde that fidgeted beside him; he was a tool. Butters nodded quietly as he pushed his pointer fingers against each other. His eyes darted between Kyle and his desk, but he followed his directions well enough. “See Kyle, you should apologize. I was just asking what was wrong.”

“Cartman,” Kyle seethed angrily. His hands formed fists around his notebook and papers. “I fucking swear, I will break your nose.” Had they been outside, Eric was damn near positive that he would see smoke simply from the amount of rage that Kyle seemed to be holding back. However, that's what he wanted to see; he wanted Kyle to throw all matters to the wind and blow up. He wanted to see Kyle get so angry, and fired up that he wouldn't speak to anyone for the next three days.

If only because that's when Kyle was at his most beautiful.

“Fine,” Cartman hummed crossing his arms. Kyle's shoulders slumped in relief, but Cartman wouldn't let them stay so for long. He would let him stew; brew in his own anger until it was just a matter of words for him to lose it. And it would be wonderous. It would be so beautiful, that even Van Gogh's art couldn't compare—and so brilliantly worded that even Hemingway would be jealous. Whatever left the redhead's mouth would probably be written down, and passed on throughout history text books. Children would read it, and then...only then, would his true beauty be realized. But Cartman knew what he was viewing; like a connoisseur, he would taste it and savor it. He would pass it around in his mouth from taste bud to taste bud, and then he would swallow, and it wouldn't just be Kyle's rage.

Oh no. It could never be that simple. Eric planned to swallow Kyle himself. He wanted to see him so crash; crash so hard that the American Stock Market would be jealous. But it would take time, and Eric had to be patient. 

Patience wasn't a virtue he had though. And certainly not one provided by his heart; an organ that he had forgotten to account for when it came to the beauty that was his plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

January 5th

Eric Cartman absolutely fucking hated anything sappy. That included the puppy dog eyes that Kyle would shoot off to his super best friend at whatever random moment he deemed proper. The rotund boy found it immensely disgusting, and entirely unfounded. Then again, he had yet to have someone make him feel like the butterflies are in his chest and not just his loins. He, honestly, wouldn't know what to do with himself if he had found someone who could take hold of his heart.

It was his honest opinion that the day he found someone who would actually try, the universe would implode.

“Go Stan!” Kyle cheered from the stands; it was a typical Friday night football game. Eric hadn't even planned to go, but when Kenny had told him that Kyle was excited to finally have time to see Stan in a home game....well...How could he miss a moment to add to his fire?

The day had started like any other. Eric found himself adding notes to his data about a certain redhead—he never did anything uninformed. And, had anyone asked, he certainly, one hundred percent did NOT have a chart constructed of data that would point him in the right direction. He did NOT have a color coded directory of what pissed the redhead off at any given moment. Eric Cartman was not a stalker; which was what all of his information had gathered up to. Nope.

Nada.

Not at all.

But he was a damned liar, if he was honest.

Good thing he was never honest.

“Fucking Jew,” He muttered to himself just loud enough for Kyle to hear it. Just loud enough, so that when the redhead bristled Kenny would roll his eyes because he didn't know what Kyle was talking about. Then again, it was as if the redhead had sonar hearing for anything remotely insulting to his people. A perfect attribute when someone who had a lot of negative things to say.

It happened with a snap of his finger—mentally of course. Because why the fuck would he randomly be snapping at a football game? Snapping was for fags. Something he was definitely was not. 

Anyway, Kyle's face was the first step to the process. His eyes darkened; like a storm was passing through. That was, Eric had noted, when the statement was setting into his mind; he was mentally absorbing what was going on. It was fantastically entertaining. By far, more interesting than whatever soap opera was popular today. 

Then the color started at the nape of his neck and flowed its way up to his ears. The color paused, while Kyle did his best to figure out how to handle the situation. And of course, Eric had already foreseen every possible outcome; they all ended in the same beautiful face of rage. In every imaginative view, Kyle's face was contorted, his brows furrowed down, his mouth open in the largest 'o' shape that Eric had ever seen. His face would be as red as his hair, and sweat would bead his brow with the frustration that built up. The visual as a whole sent stinging sparks up his spine. A heat began to fill his lower abdoment, and thank all that was above that he had his fucking leather jacket draped across his lap.

“What the fuck,” Kyle snapped turning quickly on his heel. Eric only watched as his jeans caught on the bleachers. He would go down. He would get hurt, and it would be a whole new high to watch. But, fortunate for the redhead, Kenny had caught him as he stumbled.

What a pity. Eric scoffed as he turned his view back to the football field. Stan was pacing the fieldline, his arms flailing about him as he seemed to argue with his coach. Yet another common scene. Stan was obsessed with football, and he would make damned sure his opinion about anything dealing with that stupid almond shaped ball would be heard. Even if it nearly got him kicked off the team more than once.

“What is your problem!?” Kyle snapped, his attention still on the brunette sitting beside him. “I didn't even fucking... Ugh!” Kyle threw his arms up in the air exasperated. He threw his arms over his chest, before deciding to collapse onto the chair in a tantrum. As childish as it was, it suited the redhead, if only because children were expected to be eruptive, and explosive. 

Kyle was every one of those things. 

“I don't know what you're fucking talking about,” Eric snapped back. He made sure he sent the angriest glower he could; something to help him feign his innocence. Of course, Kenny would side with the brunette because he hadn't heard the comment. But that was all par the course; was what Eric wanted. 

Nothing made Kyle angrier than when the world believed that Eric Cartman was innocent. After all, Kyle knew best, by now, that Eric was anything but. Yet, that was the beauty of it. That was Eric Cartman in a nutshell—the innocent manipulative fat ass that could get a rise out of him with just the blink of his eyes and it was orgasmic.

“Just...shit, switch seats with me then,” Kenny sighed brushing his long thing fingers through his worn hair. The kid had to be freezing, but Eric wouldn't offer his coat to him if it was life or death. To the bigger boy, the blonde was below him. He was too poor to be worth his time, and it irked him. It irked him to see him so close to the redhead. It irked him to know that Kyle could stand him, and would give him thankful looks that Eric would never get to see.

It irked him that Kyle liked him.

Not like like. No. Kyle was a fag for fucking Stan. But he seemed to understand the blonde, and that was more than Eric ever got. Kyle wouldn't moon over the blonde, but he would send him grateful looks when he did little things like switching seats. That was more than Eric ever got. Kyle would hug him, or squeeze his arm when Kenny was feeling especially emotional, or void one day. That more than Eric ever got. But the worst, was when Kenny would moon over the redhead, and not say anything because...because no homo. And that was fucking more than Eric Cartman ever fucking got.

People loved to call him spoiled, but he wasn't. Not when he never really got what he wanted. And all he truly wanted...what really made him happy...was to watch Kyle fucking Broflovski. 

So it was a wonder to him how he managed to stand from his position, sending an aggrivated scoff at the two that sometimes called themselves his friend, and walked away. He managed to ignore the stab in his gut as he secretly glanced over his shoulder and saw Kyle scowling at his back. But he was looking, and that was more than Eric ever got.

The walk to his car was freezing and lonely. Visions of the bubbling anger that fueled Kyle danced through his mind. A heat began to build in his lower abdomen, and he knew. He fucking knew that as soon as he got home, the urge would be too primal, too strong to ignore.

That was the worst part of it. When it came to the slender redhead, Eric had no self control. And it was wonderful, and terrifying, and confusing...and hot. He'd never admit it, but he loved that they had such a lack of control around each other. An argument that left Kyle ragged and tired could fuel Eric for a week. He would imagine, in his most intimate of times, that Kyle was sending that glare up at him while he was splayed out in a pool of red. Or Kyle would be glowering down at him from a position of domination, but he would never have full power. In his fantasies, Eric always held the power.

“Fucking jew,” Eric hissed as he almost ran to his run down truck. His mother had bought it for him just last year, and he hated it. But it got him from place to place while he worked and saved up to get himself a better one. “Fucking...” His hands gripped at the steering wheel, and squeezed. He wanted something to break—something to prove that he had control over his heart and the situation and that stupid fucking thumping that was happening in his damned chest.

Inhale.

All he had to do was inhale.

Just fucking breath.

And he did. He opened his mouth and gasped; his mouth flapping over itself as he fought for the breath that the damned selfish jew had taken. Fuck, how could he steal his breath and not even be in sight? His chest expanded, and finally, it seemed as if the air was rushing into his lungs—small particles running a marathon into his bronchioles. First one to reach his blood was the winner. 

His fingers fumbled with the keys and the starter. His brain wasn't able to send the waves of electricity needed to get his fingers to understand what to do. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Eric snarled slamming his fist into the rim of his steering wheel. “This is fucking ridiculous!” He thrust his fist forward, forced the key to turn, and proceeded to back out of the parking lot. He would hear about the game from Stan tonight no doubt. The douche loved to drunk text after a win, and Eric wasn't exactly leaving them in a losing position. When he shoved the stick shift into drive, he glanced at his phone, debating on what his other hand should do. After all, no matter what his driving instructor had said two years ago, he didn't really need both hands to keep his truck on the road.

But he did need to concentrate, and if he had that damned piece of technology, then he was almost positive he wouldn't make it home in one piece. If not physically, then most definitely mentally. Instead, he decided he would drum his fingers against his jean clad thigh. Just a patter, just something to keep him mentally stimulated, and busy. Something to keep his mind off a certain fiery redhead and what possible faces he might make tied to a bed and tortured.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

January 6th

The bass of Token Black's party thrummed deep within the chest of one Eric Cartman. 

But that could be due to the liquor that was quickly finding its way into his gullet. Or any number of cups before hand. He wasn't necessarily keeping count. Last nights game had apparently been a rather close call. At least, that's what the team was saying. Thus, the reason for the party. Not that Token ever really needed a reason to throw a party. Damn kid was rich enough to just toss one for the hell of it. But he was as reserved as anyone else living in their stupid little mountain town.

Back to the party.

Just out of the corner of his eye, Eric noticed a certain red head that was swaying to the music. His hair was tucked up into his green ushanka, and his jacket was lost somewhere amongst the crowd. The red cup in his hand sloshed with what Eric could only assume was fermented yeast. Judging by the clouded look, there was something extra slipped into it. 

“Damnit,” Eric growled to himself as he searched the crowd for the blonde, or ravenette that he no doubt came with. Surely, one of them wouldn't have been dumb enough to leave the jew alone; to abandon him to the wolves that were surrounding him and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. They had left the gazelle to the lion, and it was a matter of time before the lion was tired of waiting.

“Oi, Ken!” Eric snapped when the whey locks of a his victim fell into sight. “Get your ass off the floor.” The toe of his boot connected tightly when the knee of his best friend and arch nemesis. “Kyle--”

“Yes I know,” Kenny sighed hiccuping slightly as he started his stumble to natural height. His feet swam below, and for just a second, Eric worried the kid was going to blow chunks all over himself right then and there. “He's drunk.”

“S'more than that,” Eric sighed brushing a hand through his hair. His brown locks fell back into place instantly, making the motion useless, but it soothed him none the less. Ways of approaching the subject flitted through his mind, but he decided to be the best Eric Cartman he could be, and came right out with it. “Someone fucker drugged his ass.” 

“What? There's never drugs at Token's parties.” Kenny panned. The bastard even arched one of his brows like he was classy enough to fucking do it. “Trust me, I would know. I go out and look for them.”

“No, you dumb fuck.” Eric hissed rolling his eyes. His patience for the blnode was quickly reaching its limits. “Someone put ketamine or something in his fucking drink.” That seemed to snap Kenny to shock soberness. But with soberness, came suspicion. It started with the shading of his blue eyes; his brow lowered, his eyes sharpened. He was glaring. 

Of course, whenever anything bad happened to Kyle Broflovski it was Eric Cartman's fault. That was the way it worked, and the way it was supposed to be. So when something that wasn't Eric's fault happened, the brunette took it to heart. It hurt. Because, he knew he didn't cause anything that the redhead was feeling.

He didn't cause that dizziness upon looking straight. He didn't cause him to stumble, giggle, and grin because the ketamine was too far in his system, that he couldn't walk.

It hurt.

“I didn't do shit,” Eric mumbled, sending his own glower towards the blonde. “I've been drinking in the kitchen.”

“You better not have done shit.” Kenny snapped tugging his orange parka on. “But help me get his ass to the fucking truck. Where's Stan?”

“Like I fucking know. I'm not a babysitter.” The moment the words left his mouth he knew. Kenny would take it wrong; would warp his words in his mouth. But everyone did. So he shouldn't have been surprised, but it didn't dull the pain when Kenny started on him. 

“Shit, fuck, man. Stan was supposed to be with him at all times. That was the fucking plan. So what the fuck? Why do you even care if he's drugged? You're the one always on his case.” Kenny mumbled as they searched for the red hair in the sea of bronzes, and brunettes. South Park was just FULL of diversity. The monotony was rather outstanding if Eric was honest.

“It doesn't fucking matter,” Eric snapped, too focused on finding the familiar curls of fire in the room. He was quite surprised with how fast they had moved—or been moved—from the corner of the room. A small buzz began in his chest. Not good. “Where the fuck did he go?” Brown eyes scanned the room faster than before; he had never been privvy to a panic like such. He had never felt his heart thunder in his chest, while anxiety bubbled in his gut. Something was very much wrong.

“Shit,” Kenny hissed glancing around the room. “I'll check upstairs, you check the basement.” Disgustingly bright blue eyes looked at him. But Eric could do nothing but nod. If his suspicions were correct, then Kyle was likely somewhere locked in a room upstairs with some jockstrap doing who knows what. But, better Kenny to find him than Eric. He'd never live it down if someone found out he had a soul.

“A'ight,” Eric sighed before turning and heaading to the doors that would take him down into Token's ostentatious basement. It was disgusting really; how much money the family had put into making the place as grand and fucking beautiful as they could. Token seemed to get all of the breaks, while Cartman was stuck playing a hand that didn't really fit him. However, Eric Cartman was a fucking trooper, and he's stick to his hand, because one day....someday...it would play off. He would be able to lay it down and say read 'em and weep boys.

Fortunate, or unfortunately, depending on how he planned to look at it, Kyle was not in the basement. There were no red curls lost among the bodies of teenagers making out. Although, a few of said faces he would certainly store away for later. 

For instance, Bebe and Wendy. Who in the hell would have thought? He was sure that the ravenette was as straight for Stan as Kyle was for the boy. Which would be to say, not at all. However, he hadn't expected her to really make a move on her blonde bombshell friend. In school she had seemed far too reserved to make anything more of the friendship than just that.

However, the lack of red curls sent Cartman's heart into his throat, and rage bubbling to his fists. He didn't want anyone else to have the one thing that he could get from the boy. He didn't want anyone else to see contortion of pain followed by rage when he no doubt found out what was going on. No, that would simply be too much for him.

“Shit,” Eric muttered giving the crowd one last glance over before going back up the stairs—unnoticed as he usually was. His foot had just tapped the plush carpet of the living room when the argument began. Kenny came barreling down the stairs with Kyle held closely to him. He was screaming something to someone behind him, but Eric couldn't make out what it was over the bass that only seemed to reach the soles of his feet.

“Eric!” The brunette only noted because of his ability to read lips. A trait that he had picked up on whenever he would hide behind the corner and watch his mother speak into the phone. It was a sense of security, and a sense of dread. The brunette rolled his eyes, but still made his way over to the struggling blonde. “You were fucking right,” Kenny sighed shaking his head as he reshouldered Kyle's thin arm. “Shit, he's heavier than I thought he was.”

“Hand 'em over,” Eric scoffed shaking his head. One arm wrapped around Kyle's shoulder while the other slipped just above his knees. Kenny helped to tilt him back, while Eric lifted him up—heavy his fat ass. The jew seemed to weigh nothing in his arms, but he fit just so. His heart shuddered in his chest, as he started to descend the rest of the stairs. If this was any other situation, Eric would have been enlivened to be carrying his affection through a crowd. Had he been anyone else other than himself, he would have been singing the praises of Kyle. He would have blasted his heart out in prose on a stage in front of the entire school, but, ultimately, he was himself. He was Eric Cartman, and Eric Cartman was a cold, concieted, dauntless twit. He could only ever be what everyone wanted, but not what he wanted. And he was content to keep himself as so.

After all, what could be more terrifying than being true to oneself? Than being so open to the world that even the slightest breath of air could slive open his artery and bleed him alive?

So, as it went, when he laid Kyle onto Kenny's torn leather interior of his breaking down truck, he turned to the blonde a look of austere defiance in his eyes. Kenny knew what was coming. Had heard it many a times, and would admit, that each time Eric asked him, it broke his heart.

“Don't tell him I helped. The story is you saw his ass go down on some juice, and then shit went to hell in a hand basket because you turned your back for two seconds. If he asks who the fuck did it, just throw my name out there. He'll believe it.” Eric sighed reaching behind the seats into what little storage space that Kenny had. His hand grasped around a soft blanket, dragging it up to tuck the boy in.

“Eric,” Kenny whispered glancing mournfully at the tender touches. It never went unnoticed—not by the blonde, not by Wendy, or Stan, or Bebe. Or fuck, not by the rest of the school. They all saw it, no matter how hard Cartman tried to cover it up. “You're a better guy than anyone gives you credit for.”

The sardonic laugh that erupted from the portly boy's lip was tear jerkingly self depreciating. 

“Don't let anyone else hear you say that. They'll be under the impression that I probably paid you, or I've got something on you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

January 8th

Lies spread faster than a wildfire in California. Which is to say, remarkably fast. Eric wasn't prepared for the backlash that hit him on Monday when he stepped into the hallways of South Park High. He had thought himself prepared; had spent all of sunday building up his walls so that whatever words or phrases were sent at him crashed directly into it. And yet, he found himself feeling accutely aware of the crumbling bricks when he first saw the redhead.

Already, Kyle was beautifuly irate. His face was crimson, his eyes a stormy jade, and his curls were, for once, pulled back from his face into a small poofy ponytail. He wore one of Kenny's old t-shirts from the beginning of high school, and his pants were probably the same ones from saturday. Eric didn't pay that much attention to how he was dressed per say. After all, he had other things to worry about. 

“Asshole!” Kyle hissed slamming his locker. The resounding clang did something negative inside of Cartman. It sent shudders down his spine, but not in the way that Kyle's anger usually did. This was bad. This was not what Eric Cartman wanted. 

Because Kyle Broflovski wasn't mad. He wasn't even livid. He was hateful.

There was something new brewing inside of the green eyes as they looked around. Something poisonous to only one person, and Kyle had pinned him under the most unpleasant lower that Eric had ever seen. Even he hadn't managed to get something so fueled to be pointed at anyone.

“You fucking asshole.” Kyle seethed jerking his shoulders forward as if trying to make himself seem smaller, but angrier. He was curling in on himself; creating walls that no one could break down if he didn't want them to. And Eric had the most irrefutable feeling that Kyle didn't want anyone touching the walls right now.

“Me? An asshole?” He forced a cocky smirk to his lips. His shoulders raised themselves as he crossed his arms. He knew it would piss Kyle off more, but he would rather have that anger, than nothing from the redhead. “What crawled into your sandy vagina?”

“Fucking bastard!” The redhead whipped his fist foorward so fast that Eric's head nearly spun quite literally. Pain blossomed over his cheek bones, and shattered his senses. His vision garnered black spots in the corners that were quickly making their way to the center of his vision. He could hear the voices all around him, screaming something incoherently, but none of it made sense inside his mind. Nothing that anyone was saying or doing seemed to make sense. It all happened in a blur.

“Fuck, Eric?” Kenny's voice was what broke through the fog. “Eric, shit, you okay?” Someone in the background had mentioned something about something being broken. No fuck, Eric thought to himself as he tried to force his eyes to focus on the blonde. “Shit, okay, lets get you to the nurse dude.” The blonde shoved at the redhead, sending the green eyed boy a glare of his own. 

The look of shock and hurt on Kyle's face was not to be missed. It was a brilliant display; as beautiful as seeing the Russian Ballet perform a classic rendition of The Nutcracker. But the hurt was geared towards Kenny, because Kyle didn't understand. He didn't remember what had happened on Saturday—the alcohol had made sure of that, but the Ketamine certainly helped.

“Back the fuck off,” Kenny snapped at Kyle. His arm wrapped around Eric's shoulder as he lead the pudgy boy down the hall towards the nurses office. “She's going to ask what happened.”

“We say I wasn't paying attention and walked into a locker.” Eric flinched as blood flowed heavily from his nostrils. In an attempt to staunch it, he tilted his head back and pinched the bridge. He recalled somewhere in his memory that someone had mentioned it was the best way to get the blood to clot without intervening with his breathing.

“You're pretty venomous to yourself, ya know that?” Kenny sighed softly steering Eric down a hall to their left. “If you'd just let him see...”

“Let me cut you off there,” Eric ground out shaking his head. The pain radiated lightly outwards, causing him to stop. “Kyle can't know that I'm nice. No one can, because then who would the high school hate collectively? No one. They would turn their anger on the actual prospects, and all would go to hell. I wouldn't have any control of the situation.”

“Maybe that's better.” The blonde slowed his steps as they approached the closed door of the nurses office. “Maybe you don't have to control everything? Maybe, Eric, as hard as it is for you to believe, maybe you deserve to be happy for once?”

“I am happy.” Eric grunted eyeing the door. Just a few steps past it was the doors to the school. Would it be worth trying to sit through the day? Would he be able to handle the hateful glares, and scornful scowls that Kyle would no doubt send? Or perhaps the redhead would be confused. Maybe, instead of the anger that Eric had come to enjoy, he would feel something else towards the brunette. But that would mean change, and Eric wasn't quite sure if he was comfortable with that idea.

“You are the worst kind of liar,” Kenny chuckled with a shake of his head. He probably knew the other boy better than anyone else in the god forsaken town—not that Eric would admit it. But there was something about the whey haired teen that allowed Eric to be himself; to open up and show that he's not who everyone thinks he is. But that also made him dangerous. It made him impervious to the reputation that Eric was basing his whole personality on.

“No,” Eric sighed shaking his head softly. “I'm the best kind.” He forced himself to by pass the nurse and her copious amounts of pain medication to walk out of the doors. It was just one of those days where he couldn't force himself to endure; couldn't force himself to be convinced that it was a good thing for the town to have something they can all hate simultaneously. 

For once, he felt like it was too much. And he wanted to escape. He wanted to get out of town, and travel to a place where no one knew his name. For once in his short life, Eric Cartman didn't want people whispering his names while they pointed at him. But had that ever really been him? Could he lie to himself, and force himself to believe that he was the concieted jackass that everyone portrayed him to be? 

The answer was no. Definitely not. Eric Cartman finally wanted to change, and he was stuck where he didn't know how he could force himself to change. Who else would he become? 

“Eric, I'm being serious though!” Kenny called out rushing out the door to catch up with the brunette. “If you don't open up, and tell him soon...or do something....” He groaned and burried his thin fingers into his blonde locks. Eric knew that Kenny hated being put in tight spots; especially when it came to his friends. And Eric had never intentionally meant for it to happen. Hell, Kenny wasn't even supposed to find out that Eric Cartman fucking cared. It was supposed to be a secret, and one that Eric held close to his chest. But the blonde came sweeping in just after a rough argument with Kyle in middle school and he knew. Those fucking blue eyes knew.

“It doesn't matter if I do or not,” Eric sighed fumbling for the keys in his pocket. “He won't listen. You know him...and it wouldn't be just him. Not everyone can read people, Ken.” 

“I know,” The blonde whispered sighing softly. “I just wish...”

“Wishing is for the rich.” Eric chuckled glancing over. The weight that loomed because of the conversation was all too much. It was building up as a pressure just behind Eric's eyes. “And you are far from rich, po' boy.” Kenny snorted rolling his eyes. His hand automatically reached out and shoved the brunette into the car. 

“Here, dumbfuck. At least le'me drive you to the hospital.”

Eric simply nodded handing his keys over as he drug the seatbelt across his chest. There was a lot of think about; a lot of unsaid words that sunk into his brain and waited. Images of him doing just what Kenny suggested fluttered through his mind. Visions of Kyle glaring at him while a storm raged in the background, before his eyes softened and he understood. 

Kyle pursing his lips as he frowned at him from up on the top of the bleachers. Then, the inevitable smile that came after. It was sickeningly sweet, and nearly gave him a cavity. But he would hide it; even if a dentist looked in his mouth, he would make sure the doctor didn't see it. 

Hell, Eric would even let it fester, and fizz until it became an infection and killed him. Because he had a reputation to live up to.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

January 11th

History class was painful. Eric's nose throbbed violently throughout the lecture, which made it increasingly hard to focus. He made sure to sit as far away from Kyle as possible. For the next two weeks or so, Eric planned to watch Kyle from afar. Make sure nothing he did was noticed by the redhead. It had been clear, if the bruise surrounding his healing nose was any indication, that Kyle had been pushed a little too far with the party. If he were to give him just another few days, the redhead would calm down, and Eric could set upon him again.

But the disgusted glances from his classmates was disheartening. He thought, perhaps, that it would have worn over by now. After all, it wasn't unlike Cartman to drug someone at a party. Certainly, this hadn't been the first time he'd been the accused. Everyone had simply shrugged it off, and continued on with life. There was no disfunction between his classmates and himself. It lead him to wonder if perhaps there was something a bit different being tossed around that Eric himself wasn't aware of.

Even at lunch, the time where everyone seemed to join together. The only time when Kyle would willingly sit beside the brunette, if only because of continuity. And yet, Eric found himself sitting alone in a rather abandoned corner of the cafeteria. Time seemed to pass agonizingly slow as he let his brown eyes slip over the student body. Everyone else was socializing with their friends; chattering, and bouncing their legs in anticipation for upcoming events. 

Heaving a sigh, the larger boy pushed himself away from the table and made to dump his, still rather full, tray into the garbage. Whatever slop they had decided to serve for the day was more unappetizing than usual. It was all disheartening to say the least; as if a gray cloud had settled over him. When he passed a group of students, it didn't go unnoticed that they averted their gazes faster than the star runner on the school's track team. It all hit hard to his chest, and Eric almost couldn't contain it. He'd have loved to walk out of the school, and go home. Alas, he would have to reserve it for another time. He had pulled his trump card on Monday when Kyle had literally thrown his own weight around.

For an akward instance, Eric's groggy brown eyes met with Kenny's blue ones, and a world of words passed between them. But Eric knew he couldn't allow himself to believe whatever it was that Kenny was telling him. 

For the same reason as before.

He was Eric Fucking Cartman.

And good things never truly happened to Eric Cartman.

It was all a farce he put on, so that no one else would know just how broken he was. He would defend himself by attacking the insecurities of others because that was the only way he knew how. He didn't know how to be friends with anyone, because he could never let them know who he was. His mother had never been wrong when she called Eric a sweetheart. But back then it had been viewed as a weakness; something someone could bully him for.

They didn't know, or at least, they didn't understand, that his mother was a prostitute who would bring home weird men every night. They didn't understand how humiliating it was to go through puberty while listening to your mother moaning the name of a new man every night. They didn't understand that in order to protect his mother, dignity, and himself...he had to give up on it all. He had to become cocky, overwhelming and crude. It was all in self defense.

There was a lot about him that the students, and town as a whole, did not know. And he planned to keep it that way.

So he broke eye contact with the blue eyes and made his way outside. The cold air washed over him, calming him in a way that food had never been able to. It was a nice break from the heat that encased the school, and a certain glower from a specific redhead. When he sighed, his breath clouded the air. If this was an english test, he would say it was an allusion to the release of his pent up emotions. Probably would have scored him a hundred—not that his grades weren't already fantastic.

“Hey,” A new bravado interuppted his thoughts. “You alright?” 

Heat flared instantly in Eric's chest, but he willed it down. 

Don't let him see.

Be that one fucking disney princess. 

“I'm fine.” Eric snapped turning a scowl on the person he expected to see least. “What's it to ya jew?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and arched a brow. The cockier he looked, the quicker Kyle would get annoyed. The faster Kyle got annoyed, the more beautiful he was. The more beautiful he was...well...the more pleasure Eric could derive later. He was a complicated soul, he knew.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kyle snapped brushing a hand over his face. Frustration was written in his shoulders, and if it was possible, it would have been stamped across his forehead. A beacon to the entire world how he felt about the brunette he had come to check on. “I just...why can't you be a decent fucking human for once, huh? I was gonna apologize for your face! But since you want to be such an asshole!” Kyle threw up the middle finger, effectively flipping him off before turning on his heel and storming back into the school. 

It was beautiful. The way that Kyle bit his lip as his brows furrowed, and the way his hips swayed as he walked with a purpose. But it was painful as well. Too true to what Eric could mistake as his heart thumping with love.

Granted, Eric loved very few things in his life. His mother, his cat...his dad if he knew who the fuck that was honestly. So when his heart thumped so heavily in his chest, Eric knew. But he wanted nothing more than to be able to play it off, because it was what was expected. He wanted Kyle's rage to be the reason he was beautiful; for the fits to be the reason that he was falling. But it wasn't.

It was because Kyle fucking Broflovski was a good person. He would worry about someone even if he hated him, and that was more than Eric could ever find himself doing. Even if Kyle loathed a person, he would make sure that they were okay. That was one of the things that made Eric absolutely crazy for him—the selflessness. It was the opposite of his own capabilities.

Heaving a sigh, the portly boy turned towards the other side of the court yard. The bell was due to ring any moment, and he wanted to gather his books and get to his classes as fast he could. There was no room in his walls for other students. It never panned out well.

Deep in his pocket, his phone buzzed with a message. From who, he wasn't sure. Plans to ignore it until after school were followed thoroughly. 

The halls were already starting to fill with students who had similar ideas to his own. Shoulders bumped into his, but no apologies were thrown towards him. There was no need after all. Typically, he would have sent a witty retort at them. However, he found himself pushing through without his mouth even opening. Something was happening inside his head, and worst of all inside his chest. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” A voice whispered in his ear. Fingers wrapped around his bicep, before turning him and slamming him into the wall. Eric simply looked up and sighed. It would have only been a bit of time before he was confronted by none other than Stanley Marsh—star quaterback with his dick shoved so far into Wendy's vagina that it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began. 

“Nothing,” The brunette muttered as he shoved the grip off of him. Could the world be kind to him for all of five minutes? Would that be too much to ask for? His days were getting shittier and shittier, and he was starting to feel the effect emotionally, mentally, and physically. He didn't need Stan telling him (ontop of everyone else) how shitty he was as a person. He fucking knew.

Ask anything he'd ever written in private.

He was an expert on how shitty he was. He had a PhD in it; just look at the plaque tacked to his wall. 

“Bull fucking shit!” Stan hissed crossing his arms. It would be obvious, to the rest of the student body, that he was sticking up for his super best friend. But there was something the rest of the world didn't know about Stan—he was a bully. Out of their group, Stan was the one that would pressure someone into doing something. Especially if it was something that he wanted to do himself, but was too pussy faced to do it. It was subtle though; under the table words that went unnoticed. “You fucking drugged Kyle on saturday, and now you're acting like...like a fucking emo brat.”

“Says the kid who went goth,” Eric scoffed before his mind could calculate the consequences. Luckily, Stan only deadpanned. Apparently, the bruising that had taken over his face was enough to get him off the hook with Stan physically.

“Foot in your mouth, Cartman.” Stan snarled getting much closer than was comfortable for either boy. But the ravenette had a 'point' to make. 

One that resounded rather heavily inside the brunette's head every day.

It screamed violently, and bounced off the caverns of his skull, repeating like a mantra.

'You're not good enough to be happy.'

And well, fuck. Would you look at that? It was right.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

January 15th

Sweat beaded Eric's brow as he stared down at the red curls that bobbed before him. Concentration was taught in his forehead as he rode out the emotions, and pleasures that curled in his stomach. Not much longer and it would end in bliss. A sudden urge to hear Kyle whisper his name was strong enough that he latched his hands in the red curls and jerked his head back, exposing the bobbing of his adams apple—delicious. The colors around the two swirled into a Van Gogh painting before blending into one another to create the most explosive colors Eric had ever seen.

Too bad it was a dream.

Too bad it was just what he wanted.

Too bad he could never have it.

Heaving a sigh, Eric threw back the covers, grimacing at the no doubt stickiness that was starting to form. He groaned softly to himself as he gathered up the messed sheets and rushed downstairs before his mother. She wouldn't have said anything had she found them; after all, before he reached sixteen she was in charge of all of the laundry. Surely she had seen much worst than a morning mess—and even given her occupation...

Still. It wasn't like Eric wanted it flaunted around his household that he had wet dreams. Grimacing, he threw the soiled laundry into the washer and set it to whites. That would ensure him the cleanest sheets. A secret he had learned about a year ago after a mishap with the gang staying over. 

Upstairs, he could hear his alarm blaring. A warning that his day was about to start. It sent a sinking feeling through his chest. It would no doubt be another day of school where he was ostracized, accused falsely, and would have erroneous rumors spread about him. The school was probably still quite upset about his 'ketamine' trip. Kenny knew it wasn't him, and Butters certainly had his suspicions. Funny, how everyone said that the blondes were the dumb ones, but both people who had faith in him were blonde.

Was it an omen?

The thought of calling out sick certainly crossed his mind. He could make himself vomit, a neat trick he discovered when he was in middle school. His mother would believe him, put him back to bed and call the school. It was a talent.

He could pretend to go and then skip completely. His mother would be upset, but not for too long. He could spend the day creating a story for her; the boys at school were bullying him again. The boys were being jerks and said somethings. The school sent him home early. He started feeling sick on the way.

But, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed to go. He had to show his face around the school so that when people needed someone to blame for the something aweful that happened in his life, he would be there. They would have a face to put with the anger and hatred. They would have someone to blame.

And yet, in a sense, that's what drove him to continue going. Something about being the face to their emotions was some enthralling, and felt right. It made him feel needed. Not exactly an emotion he felt at home frequently. So the decision came down to whether or not he wanted to feel needed.

In the end, he decided that it wasn't worth his education for a free day. Believe it not, Eric Cartman was a straight A student, with hopes of getting into a pretty decent college somewhere upstate. Somewhere, away from all of the brats at school. Somewhere, where Eric Cartman was just himself; not a preconcieved notion of evil.

So he packed up his backpack, and made his way to his truck. Trepidation filled his chest as he got closer to the school, but he managed to push himself through it. If anything, he would simply ignore everyone and slip into a bout of silence. That always seemed to get him off everyone's bad side for a bit. It would certainly be worth the break.

Throughout the day, Eric did his best to completely avoid anyone he had previously been associated with. This included, but did not limit, Token, Butters, Kyle, Stan, and even Kenny. Though, he knew the blonde wasn't mad with him, the rest of the ostracizing social group wouldn't let him break through. Which, once again, was how Eric found himself eating alone in the far corner of the cafeteria.

Or, at least, he had started out eating alone. 

Kenny was the first one to sit across from him. His fork dug into the slop that the school was calling food as he shoveled it into his mouth. Eric felt his shoulders tense as he eyed the blonde sitting across from him. 

“What are you doing?” Eric hummed quietly. There was no malace in his voice, and no underlying anger. When he was with the right people, he wasn't bad. In fact, he could be quite nice. But it took a lot of time and trust to get him to that level. And on top of that, a lot of not listening to other people.

“You weren't going to tell him.” Kenny replied shoving another bight of slosh into his mouth. He needed it though. With his metabolism, and the lack of money in his home, he needed every calorie he could get. His blond hair was starting to get just a little too long, he could almost pull it back into a full pony without strands hanging loose in the front. “So I did. It's not fair to you, Cartman. You can't let people treat you--”

“Treat me like what Kenny?” Eric sighed rubbing a hand over his face. He aged almost twenty years in the process, but he didn't particularly care right now. “Treat me like I'm worst than some vanereal disease? Treat me like I deserve to be dead, and not alive breathing the same air as them? In case you haven't noticed, if I don't act as the catylist fo their hatred--”

“You. Don't. Deserve. It.” Kenny snapped his blonde eyebrows furrowing down. He leaned forward, doing his best to make sure that the conversation stayed at the table and wouldn't carry over. “You can't keep allowing this to be the thought. Eric, you fucking saved Kyle from lord only knows what would have happened! On top of that, you're taking the blame for him even getting...”

“Because, why wouldn't I?” Eric growled as his hands gripped the plastic fork. “I'm supposed to hate the damned jew. I'm not supposed to be nice. I like it when he's angry, and I love it when I'm the one that makes him angry. Why is that so damned hard to accept? Maybe I'm not some nice guy...maybe...”

“And maybe you are,” Kenny huffed crossing his arms. “Maybe, you're nicer than you give yourself credit for. As far as the bullying Kyle thing...dude have you even matured since junior high? Everyone knows you've got the biggest cru--”

“I do not you dumbfuck!” Eric interrupted quickly. He didn't even want the word to leave Kenny's mouth. Didn't want to think about it, and had, in fact, managed to put it off for years. If It Wasn't Said Aloud, Then It Itsn't True: A Philosophical Endeavor written by one Eric Cartman. 

But his face betrayed whatever emotion it was that he was trying to farce. Heat raised to his cheeks, and his eyebrows had reached his hairline. It was damn near comical.

“You do though.” Kenny sighed placing his chin on his hand. “But anyway...”

The bell rang just in time; thankfully. Eric jumped up from his seat, and raced to throw away whatever slop was left on his tray. He would be sure to avoid the blonde for the rest of the day. There was no need to risk anymore anxiety or self realization while needing to focus on his grades and study. As long as he was left alone, he could focus.

And for the rest of the day, it seemed that things would go his way. He made it through most of his classes without incident; kept his head down, took notes, and didn't say a word or kick up a fuss. He still got the occasional dirty glare, but they weren't as persistant as they had been. The students were starting to come off their high horses, and it was both a relief and a worry to Eric.

He was at his locker when the red head showed up, his lips pursed, and his brows pulled down in consternation. He wasn't happy with what Kenny had told him, and in fact, probably wanted answers directly from the source.

“We need to talk.” Kyle leaned against the locker in front of him. His thin lanky arms wrapped tightly around a book that he would claim he needed for studying. But Kyle was too smart for anything taught at this stupid school. He didn't have to study, but he liked to. It was a secret that he tried to keep but Eric knew. He could ready beyond what the redhead was saying when he said he had to study.

“No,” Eric shook his head slamming his locker door. “No we don't.” He turned on the ball of his feet and made to leave. But Kyle was oddly persistant, it seemed. A trait that Cartman both endeared and hated when it came to certain situations. This situation just so happened to be one of the times where he hated it.

“Yes, we do. Kenny told me. In fact,” Kyle rushed to keep up with the long strides of the thick legs that carried the larger boy. “Kenny told me a hell of a lot last night. And I need...Eric! Man just wait!” He reached to grasp the thick jacket that covered Eric's arm.

And then it all happened too fast.

Eric didn't have control of himself or the current situation and he hated it.

He hated not having control.

But maybe, just once it would work out for him. Because without a second thought, Eric grabbed Kyle's hand, and tugged him into a rough kiss while simultaneously sending a spine tingling glare.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

January 15th Con.'D

He had messed up. Oh man, had he messed up. The stinging vibration that fluttered through his cheek was every bit an indication of just how bad he had fucked up. Or perhaps, depending on how he wanted to look at it, he had sealed the deal. He had been able to convince Kyle that he wasn't the good guy that Kenny had try to tell him that he was. In fact, hopefully, Eric had proved that he was anything but. And yet, his heart still pounded and fluttered as if it was the best thing he had ever done.

When he got to his house, he raced inside and slammed the door shut. He had to leave the outside world behind, because shit. He had fucked up big time. Anxiety coursed through his body in time with his pulse, and god damnit what the hell did he do?

His phone was blowing up in his pocket, but he wasn't about to answer it. Not a chance. He did NOT need anyone—especially a certain blonde—telling him just how bad he messed up. But the honest question of the hour was...did he regret it? 

Did he regret knowing how soft Kyle's lips were now? Or the way that when he pressed back for just a god damned second, butterflies seemed to take flight? Did he regret doing what he had been wanting to do for...jesus, for how many years now?

The messages escalated rather quickly to calls. His phone screamed its high pitch squeal of wanting his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he snatched out the latest iphone model and turned the volume to silent. He had long ago taken the vibrate off. That wouldn't stop anyone from calling, but it would give him a while of silence before he had to answer to the consequences fully.

Or so he thought.

Just as he had collapsed onto the couch Kenny barreled through the door. The blonde hadn't even knocked.

“Dude!” Kenny flailed his arms around looking at the brunette. “What the fuck?!” He spluttered before a grin split his face and he cackled at the enraged flush that covered Eric's face. “What...” He snickered before almost doubling over in silent laughter. “Like...what even? He was so shocked! A-and his face!” The blonde broke into full on cackling as his legs gave out. “Shit man!” He grinned eyeing the brunette—who did NOT find it quite as amusing as the blonde. “So was that like..an official move?”

“Kenny...” Eric sighed brushing his hands over his face. “Shut up. Please?” He had never felt quite so humiliated. Who the fuck spends their life making a single person angry and then turns around in the heat of a moment to kiss him? 

Eric Fucking Cartman apparently.

“Jesus, dude.” Kenny giggled sitting up and taking a deep breath. He tried to put on his serious face, but it had never really been there. “That was either the most brilliant move you have ever planned, or you shut your brain off.” 

“Kenny...I'm serious. I really need you to shut up.” The blonde did not miss the pleading note in his friend's voice. Heaving a sigh, the blonde fell into place beside the brunette and leaned into him.

“Dude,” Kenny sighed softly resting his head on the strong shoulder of his friend. “You...You did it, ya know? I mean...you've dealt with everything up to this point.” Kenny sighed as he pondered what he was going to say next. Cartman grunted beside him, his face pushed deep into the palms of his hands. “You've built up this persona...that you've GOT to be the bad guy. And I think, with that, comes the idea that everything you do is set up to ruin everyone's life. That includes yours,” Kenny pointed at him as his eyes glanced up towards the ceiling, as of he was thinking of what to say or how to phrase it. “I don't think you need to be embarassed...”

“He's going to hate me Kenny. No matter what happens...I'm the bad guy. That's why I got you at the party. That's why I make him angry. So that he won't ever have to know that...that...god fucking damnit.” Cartman hissed pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. The pressure that had built up due to the emotions had cleared only minutely. But it did help to alleviate the headache that was building rapidly behind his eyes. “He's going to turn me down...and then what huh?”

“And then I think you need to fucking talk to me before you make that fucking decision for me fat ass!” A third voice broke into the conversation. Cartman leapt from his seat and stared at the ginger haired teen that stood across from him. Of course Kenny had left the fucking door open. 

“Shit,” Kenny giggled excitedly from his spot. Cartman dug his elbow into the thinner boys ribs. 

“Kenny...shut the fuck up.” Cartman groaned with a roll of his eyes. Kenny simply smiled up at him as if he were an angel that had blessed his life. In fact, he was more like a curse. If Kenny hadn't been around, Cartman would still be in his comfortable little bubble.

“Don't fucking ignore me!” Kyle stomped his foot. Rage contorted his face, and matched his features to his hair. He was getting close to completely blowing his fuse and Eric found it pretty damn hot—even thought it wasn't the best of times to do so. “I am right here, and Eric Cartman, you will fucking explain why you kissed me. I deserve to know.”

“He saved your ass. A lot.” Kenny chirped from his seat with a finger held up as if he were making a point. Eric ground his teeth next to him. Instead of being able to focus on the anger that coursed, and probably throbbed with his pulse, he was imagining just how he could grind Kenny into the ground.

Kyle's eyes narrowed at the duo sitting on the couch. The wheels inside of his head visibly turned as he turned the statement over in his mind;taking it apart and reading between the lines.

“What do you mean?” Kyle eased the tension in his shoulders as he stood straighter. 

“I mean-” Kenny yelped when Cartman dug the heel of his shoe into the top of Ken's foot.

“He means jack shit jew. Get the fuck out of my house. I didn't invite you in.” Cartman stood from his position on the couch. Kyle took a step back, but otherwise held his ground. The rage that had momentarily faltered, came back ten fold.

“Not until you fucking answer me!”

“You never asked a fucking question, Kike. Therefore, I have nothing to answer.” Cartman crossed his arms glowering at the smaller redhead. Kyle pursed his lips and inahled deeply. Eric braced for the screaming match that was sure to come. What he hadn't expected was the lips that had landed on his—nor the force in which they had landed. 

Spark had danced just behind his eyes as almost pulled back. His mind had froze whenever Kyle had touched him. Then it clicked.

Holy fucking hell.

Holy fucking hell in a hot tub.

Kyle Broflovski was willingly kissing him, and he wasn't pulling away. 

The damned butterflies returned ten fold to his stomach. Luckily, he was able to react through them and push his lips back against the ginger's.

And it was fantastic. And his arms wrapped around the lithe waist that nearly quirmed under his grasp. Kyle's arms came up to wrap around his neck.

And then there was Kenny fucking McCormick. 

The blonde released probably the loudest god damn whoop that anyone in South Park had heard. 

Then Kyle had been startled by the noise and jerked back as if he had been burned. But his cheeks were a different shade of red—more flushed than raged. It was more beautiful on his features than the rage that Eric had come to love so much. But he wouldn't give in. The conflict that took place within the jade orbs was enough to convince Eric that he couldn't allow Kyle to fall in love with him.

He would ruin Kyle's life. Much like he had ruined his mothers, and probably even his father's. After all, most everyone around the brunette was miserable to some degree. That was the only reason Eric could think of. The only explanation that Eric could find that made sense; his mother's prostitution, his father leaving, Kyle hating him, Kenny monetary brokeness. There was probably some way, some how, that it could all be linked back to the brunette. 

And as much as he enjoyed the way that Kyle fit in his grasp, he wouldn't do that to the redhead. He had too much fire to be put out. There was no possible way that Eric could handle watching the flames die.

He would be the water that put him out.

Without wasting a second thought Eric shoved Kyle away. He hadn't meant to cause the redhead to stumble back that hard; hadn't meant for the boy to fall, slamming his elbow on the entertainment center. Eric didn't even mean to back away from Kyle with a look of confused horror. 

But that was just it.

He had done it.

He had ruined his only damn chance to really be with the redhead. Of that, Eric was sure.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

January 19th

Eric had done a mighty good job of avoiding the redhead for the rest of the week. But come Friday, Kyle was making it damn near impossible to avoid him. When Eric turned the corner to get to his locker, Kyle was waiting right beside it. When Eric excused himself from class, Kyle wasn't far behind him. It was as if the brunette had gotten into pandora's box. 

The worst part was that Kyle never pushed. He never started a conversation. Hell, the ginger jew didn't even so much as greet the brunette whenever they'd bump into each other. And Eric Cartman, for once, was absolutely okay with it.

What he wasn't okay with were the glances he got from Wendy. It was like she knew something that he didn't. Or that she had some profound knowledge of his psych. Obviously, Kyle had talked to her. The black haired bitch was the only other person the school recognized as being on the same level with Kyle. Cartman didn't even blame him. Stan probably would have freaked out of Kyle had gone to him instead, and then the whole school would know. At least with Wendy, there was some semblance of silence. She knew when to keep her mouth shut, and when to keep a secret a secret.

Lunch was when it had all gone to hell in a hand basket. 

Eric had seperated himself from his group, as he had been doing the past three weeks or so. Thus, he hadn't been expecting Kenny and the vuluptuous Bebe to sit across from him. He didn't expect for Bebe to look at him as if his world had crashed. He didn't expect Kenny to look as guilty as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I swear to Hitler, Kenny....If you told them...” Cartman seethed as he watched the blonde's shoulders slump forward. “Fucking hell...”

“Be nice,” Bebe hummed lacing her fingers together. “You haven't exactly been inconspicuous yourself.”

“Big word for you, ain't it big tits?” Cartman growled rubbing a hand down his face. It was so easy to put on the mask of the asshole. Be mean, and they'll leave him alone. Say crude things and they'll let him wallow. Insult Bebe, and she'll call Kenny a liar and stomp off. He'd be left alone, and wouldn't have to deal with the shit that was blowing up.

“Dude,” Kenny squeaked slamming the toe of his shoe into Cartman's shin. The brunette hissed jerking his leg back. The glare he leveled on his supposed friend would have almost been enough to send even Kyle scampering.

“First off, Kenny didn't tell me anything. I guessed it all, sweety.” Bebe flipped her curls over her shoulder as she arched her over preened brow. “And you didn't account for Kyle.” She jerked her head over to the redhead who looked almost as miserable as Eric himself.

“Fuck,” Eric sighed dropping his head into his hands. “What do you want?”

“I just want to know what happened,” Bebe smiled softly at him. “Eric, you don't usually do things like that. Besides,” Her elbow nudged Kenny's side softly. “I've been told by a certain little bird, that maybe you're not as bad as the rest of us think.”

“Nope,” Eric shook his head standing from his chair. “No.” He leveled a glare at Kenny, then turned to Bebe. “We are not having this conversation. I am Eric fucking Cartman. You all hate me, and I hate you all. That's fine. That's who I am.”

“That isn't who you are though,” Bebe stood from her own seating. She was going to follow him, and make sure that he knew that he had people on his side. “Not from what I've been told. Kenny told me about the party...that you didn't drug Kyle. You found him and saved him from making some dumb decisions.”

“I'm not his guardian angel. I just wanted to be the one to make him miserable. Why would I give someone else that opportunity?” 

“Why would you stop him from making himself miserable? Why would you get Kenny and get him out of that house instead of letting him make his mistakes?” Bebe followed him as he marched to the garbage can. “You could have had so much black mail on him if you hadn't stopped him.”

“I like a challenge. It was too easy,” Eric growled as he slammed his tray down on the dispal belt. It would take it into the back, and the lunch lady would probably grumble as she scraped off the remnants of the uneaten lunch. 

“That's not true.” Bebe crossed her arms and leaned on the cinder block wall that had at least twelve layers worth of paint. Cartman looked past her head to a spot that pealing on the wall. Below the top layer there was so so much more. If he just picked at it, he could probably expose all of the colors and the room would be a conglomerate of color. It would look like someone had puked on the walls. But with each color would come a whole new side of the school. Perhaps the green was from the eighties, back when his own mother had attended the high school. Or was it the orange? 

“Eric,” Bebe sighed softly and reached out, resting her hand on his bicep. “It's okay to want someone to be safe and happy. It's okay to like someone...You do know that right?”

“No,” Eric shook his head jerking his shoulder back from the blonde's grip. “No it's not. Because this town would go to hell if I didn't have everyone concentrated on hating me. Whether you realize it or not,” Miserable brown eyes met her blue. For once, Bebe didn't feel a burning desire to berate the brunette. She didn't feel the need to lecture him on his latest mischevious scheme. “You all hate me, and that's okay. Because if you hate me, then you can't hate each other.”

“Oh Eric,” Bebe whispered tugging him into a hug. He allowed his head to droop to a rest on her shoulder. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating, and slightly soothing. Bebe had always been a good listener, and one day, she'd make a hell of a mom. The reputation that preceded her was damaging, and she didn't deserve it. “Sweety,” Her hands rubbed up and down his back in a soothing motion. It was almost too much. 

Eric could feel the tears building up behind his eyes. He had to leave now, or he would be exposed. Crying when he was a child was one thing. He could always say he was using the tears to his advantage. Cry enough and your parent feels bad and looks beyond the wrong you did. Cry enough and maybe, just MAYBE, your mom will cancel that last appointment to spend some quality time with you.  
But cry in the high school cafeteria and you could kiss your reputation goodbye.

That was something that Eric couldn't afford. He had too much riding on him, and he hated change. So he straightened his shoulders and back, stood up, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the eatery. 

Bebe didn't even try to follow.

After ten minutes of pacing the hall and doing his best to get his breathing under control, Eric collapsed in an unoccupied boy's restroom. The smell of amonia violated his nostrils like the punch that had broken his nose just a few weeks ago. In fact, if the light caught him just right, he could still see some of the bruising.

The silence was over bearing and too much. But he didn't want to play music on his phone for fear of alerting someone to his hiding spot. So instead, he locked the door, turned the light off and turned on all of the faucets. The sound of running water seemed to sooth the blood that pulsed violently through him.

“Jesus fucking christ,” He whispered to himself. Brown curls crushed against the white wall as he leaned back into a resting position. Tears built up behind his eyes once more as his mind raced back and forth with what had transpired. Too much.

There was too much going on.

He never should have kissed Kyle. Never should have told Bebe about his own battle and struggle. Fuck, half of the time he regretted ever meeting Kenny McCormick when the blonde had waddled over to him in kindergarden. There was just so much damn regret in his life that he wondered.

Was it worth it? Was pushing himself to graduate and get away worth it?

Of course.

Because if he could just muddle through, he'd be gone. He would go to Denver, or Princeton, or Harvard. He had the brains—contrary to popular belief. Eric had never been recognized for his academic career. Probably because everything else he did overshadowed it, but that was all perspective.

Just get to April.

“Just get to April,” Eric sighed burrying his face into his knees. It would be his motto. He would stop socializing. No more parties, no more chances for him to slip up and be the real Eric Cartman. Just a couple of more months and he would be free. He'd be a lawyer, or a politician. He would make money, and for once...

For once the world would know Eric Cartman as the good guy. Not the brunette that terrorized the local kids on the playground. Not as the guy who taunted and teased a red head jew.

He would be Eric Cartman, renowned persecuter. For once, he would put the bad guy away instead of being the bad guy. He could reinvent himself and be who he had always been. 

But life could never be so kind to him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

January 20th

Eric absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent refused to leave his room. He had turned his phone on silent, and ignored it everytime the screen lit up with a notification. When it buzzed with a phon call, he sent the person to voicemail. It wasn't very often that Eric wanted to hide from the world, but god damnit. Even he deserved his alone time.

But Kenny god damned McCormick—and yes, Eric was sure it was written on his birth certificate that way—was going to make sure that Eric didn't get his alone time.

The unfortunate brunette had just gone downstairs when the blonde barreled into the living room. All Eric had wanted was something to eat for breakfast. A quick cereal bar, and a soda from the fridge. Hell, he had even been thinking about going for a glass of juice instead. Just something to quench the morning dryness that stuck to the back of his throat. 

But, nope. Life hated him.

“Cartman?” Kenny worried his lip between his teeth as he approached his friend. Eric sighed heavily, allowing his shoulders to heave with the weight of what was coming. He should have installed the lock his mother had been asking him to put in. He had put it off and put it off, and now he had to deal with the consequences. Kenny snuck in whenever the fuck he wanted. 

“What?” A meaty hand drug itself down his exhausted face. Bags had formed and become quite predominant under his eyes. He was sure he looked as if he hadn't slept, and in truth, he hadn't. Why would he? He would have had nothing but nightmares about the whole damn school finding out about what he really wants. Or it would be about them finding out that he didn't do a damn thing that they thought he had. 

“Are you okay? Bebe and I...” Kenny glanced over his shoulder as if the other blonde had followed him in. Lucky for the brunette, there was no one there. Eric couldn't handle two people barging into his life at random, and exceedingly more often, intervals.

 

“Get out,” Eric sighed using a pointer finger to massage his temporalis. An ache had formed almost as soon as the blonde had opened his mouth. “Its nothing. Let's just forget everything, yeah? Can we fucking do that Kenny?”

“No,” Kenny pursed his lips and furrowed his brows. Determination lined his eyes, and made Eric's headache even worst. “No, Eric. We're not going to forget it because you need to fucking listen.” 

The brunette scowled at the empty glass that sat in front of him. Was it worth it to deal with Kenny for a few seconds longer, just for a drink? He could just grab a can of soda and be up the damned stairs. He'd lock the blonde out of his room and enjoy his silence and solitude. It was what he deserved.

“You're not running away from this,” Kenny dropped a hand onto Eric's shoulder and squeezed softly. It was an offer of comfort, but Eric really didn't want anything to do with it. “We need to talk.”

“Fine,” Eric ground out pinching the bridge of his nose as he straightened up. “Fine. But you have ten minutes. Any more than that, and I'll kick your poor ass out of my house.” Brown eyes fired warning after warning at the blonde.

“That's all I need,” Kenny chirped clapping his hands together. The energy that he exuded was disgustingly intoxicating. It swept over Eric, and drowned him in its waves. “C'mon...sit down. Bebe will make you a real breakfast bro,” Kenny grapped the larger boys arm and tugged him towards the table whilst he nodded to the other blonde that waited just outside the door.

“I'm not hun-”

“Shush,” Bebe hummed softly as she began browsing through the cabinets in search of the cookingware. “You and Kenny talk. I'll make eggs and some pancakes. And then we'll all talk.” 

Eric simply sighed giving in. What else could he do really? He was getting too damned exhausted to really care. And maybe, if he heard the duo out, he would wake up in the morning refreshed and ready for the day. Or he would wake up, hear about a party, and find a whole new way to fuck it all up. That seemed to be his expertise as of late anyway.

“C'mon dude, sit.” Kenny tugged the chair out from under the table and offered the spot to him. With a grunt of disapproval, Eric lowered himself into the chair that his mother had bought not long ago. Hell, she hadn't wanted to spend the money, claiming that Eric may need it. But he had managed to convince her—even if he had to go without lunch for a week. “You've got to stop.”

“Huh?” Eric's brows furrowed as he glanced up into worried blue irises. 

“You know what I mean,” Kenny sighed softly. He crossed his arms over the table and leaned forward. “You can't...You have to let yourself be happy. Man, you don't deserve all of the shit that is thrown at you.”

“He's right,” Bebe hummed over the sizzle of a heating skillet. “We talked a lot last night about you,” Her hips swayed to an invisible tune that was no doubt buzzing through her head. “He told me so much...Eric...Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Why...” Eric scoffed a bitter laugh. Emotion was bubbling uncomfortably close to his surface, and he'd be damned if he was going to let it out without a fight. “Because. I fucking told you yesterday, big tits. Everyone needs someone to hate. I'm that guy for everyone in this god damned mountain town.”

“But why? Why not let us hate each other? Who even put you in that position?” Bebe sighed softly blowing some of her hair out of her face. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a half empty carton of eggs. “How many do you want by the way?”

“Three,” Eric grunted watching her move about as if she owned the place. “And because...” He rubbed his face and glared at the roof. He could feel it getting closer. If he gave it just a nudge it would explode from him like a fountain. It would gush down and drown everyone, himself included, in its disgusting nature. Bebe would start to feel guilty and would hug him, Kenny would understand but would do his best to comfort him. He would lose so many fucking points on who he was a person, and he was not very comfortable with that...at all. In fact, he was entirely uncomfortable with it. If given the chance to get out, he would hop on it like a pony and ride it out of town.

“Because?” Kenny urged leaning forward just a bit. He wanted to know what his friend was going to say; wanted to hear the god damned wall break. “C'mon Eric...let us in.”

“That's just it,” Eric snapped. “I don't want to let anyone in because they'll fucking leave me. My dad left, my mom may be here physically, but mentally and emotionally she's blown all the way to fucking Mars. Kenny, you know me, so I don't even know why the fuck you even stick around. But when people hate me...it's like they won't leave. Like their anger anchors them to me, and god fucking damnit...” Tears had swelled in his eyes at some point, and one had even begun to leak out of the corner. His fist slammed onto the table as rage and embarassment and hurt all bubbled in his stomach. It was surfacing. If he couldn't reel it in soon he was going to lose.

“Eric,” Bebe whispered pathetically. It was all written on her face; pity. And Eric hated it, but god damnit, if he opened his fucking mouth shit was going to fall out and he wouldn't be able to take it back. 

“Man,” Kenny reached out and braced a hand on Eric's forearm. It pulled the brunette back into the now, and out of his head. Even if it was only a temporary reprize. “That's...We don't hate you...We'd never hate you man. And I'm fucking immortal,” This again. Eric nearly rolled his eyes at the statement. He knew that Kenny could die an infinite ammount of times, but everyone's luck ended eventually. The blonde would cut it short one day and he'd never come back. What would Eric do then? Kenny was his only fucking friend. 

“Kyle's worried about you too,” Bebe cut in doing her best not to look directly at the scene. It was a moment between the two boys and she didn't want to ruin it. Instead, she focused her eyes on the sizzling edges of the eggs that she had cracked into the pan. “He's really confused about everything.”

“He should just forget it even fucking happened, damned kike.” Eric tugged his arm back, breaking the connection between him and Kenny. The blonde pouted a bit at the lack of contact, but pulled his own arms back. “It was a mistake on my part. I was too angry and instead of punching him, my fucking mind messed up.”

“And that's why you saved him at the party?” Bebe chirped arching her brow. She knew. Fucking hell, she knew. A whole new type of feeling swallowed Cartman, and it's name was Fuck You from the wonderful Anxiety. 

“What?” He could barely control the minor break in his voice.

“Kenny told me,” Bebe nodded towards the other blonde. “He tells me everything.” 

“Kenny, what the fuck?! I told you not to!” Eric snapped at the boy in the orange parka. Kenny flinched a bit, but grinned at him toothily. Of course he told. Kenny never kept his fucking mouth shut. And Bebe was known for being a drunk talker. That was how he had caused a fight betweenher and Wendy last year. It was a stupid fight, but it was entertaining. Kyle had to hear all about it from Stan, and watching the redhead explode on his best friend was pretty amusing. But it was the way his green eyes sparkled for days after everytime Stan so much as waved at him. 

“She was giving me the best head,” Kenny squawked in response. “I babble when she does that, and I was worried, and I couldn't help it!”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

January 22nd

Cartman sighed as he stumbled around the school. His stomach hadn't been able to settle itself since the conversation with Kenny and Bebe in his kitchen. Both blonde's had come to some conclusion that Eric Cartman loved, or heavily liked, Kyle Broflovski. Of course, after the accusation, he had denied it violently. So much so, that he had almost landed a blow on Kenny's face. But the blonde simply laughed it off, and jumped back dodging the swing.

He knew it was true though.

After all, what wasn't there to like about the spit fire redhead with the worlds roundest bottom? It had, after all, been in many of his fantasies at night when his mother had been asleep. He had imagined the way Kyle would bite his lip as he squirmed, and then how glorious he'd be whenever rage contorted his face because Eric wouldn't give in. Not a chance. He would dominate the redhead.

But that wasn't ever going to be recognized. 

Eric wouldn't let it.

Either way, everything that had been going on left the brunette dizzy, and fevered. He would have blamed it on the fact that his heater was broken, but he knew there was some emotional stress added in to make it all the worst. 

“Cartman!” A deep voice boomed down the hall. And, as if Moses was parting the red sea, the study body subconciously split to either side of the hall. Throught he crowd walked none other than Stan Marsh. He looked perturbed, with a hint of majorly disturbed. No doubt that Kyle had talked to him about kissing and being kissed by the big bad Eric Cartman. He had probably contorted the story whenever Stan asked about the bruise that formed on Kyle's elbow. It was a pretty dark purple—a sign that anyone who stuck around Eric, be it willing or unwilling, would get hurt.

“What?” Eric growled letting his eyes roll into his head. He wasn't feeling up to whatever shit Stan was up to. And he still hadn't forgiven him about the hallway incident. 

Believe it or not, there were very few people that Eric disliked passionately. Everyone in South Park would quickly guess that it was the redhead. But, as the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Hence the reason that no matter how much Eric hated Stan, he played friend.

“What the fuck are you up to?” Stan crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged under the old t-shirt. Jesus fuck, did the kid only shop at good will or old navy? The shirt itself looked like it was a hundred years old, and too thin. It formed around his muscles quite nicely, but sickeningly so. 

“I, believe it or not, am not currently up to anything. Except getting my ass to class. So get out of the way,” Eric jerked his head in a 'move it or lose it' motion. “Also, I don't owe you an explanation. So consider me kind today.”

“Cartman...I'm fucking serious. Leave. Kyle. Alone. He doesn't need your shit chasing him around.” Stan glowered down at the rotund boy as if he was garbage. Eric would probably agree with him if he weren't stuck in this god forbidden town. As it were, he had a reputation as a pompous asshole to uphold.

“What the fuck is it even to you? He's a big boy Stan. He can make his mistakes, and deal with his own consequences. You can't be his fucking troll for every bridge he has to cross.” Eric snapped. The world tilted a bit as the rage bubbled and broiled; it simmered just below his skin. His fist balled at his side as he tried to ground himself to the situation. This was absolutely no reason for him to jerk his fist back and send it launching into Stan's face. That would only serve to make Kyle hate him even more, and Eric didn't want to mess with any ground that he had until he knew exactly where he stood.

“It doesn't fucking matter. He deserves better than you..and I plan to protect him from making a bad decision.” Stan growled as he leaned in closer to the brunette. He was trying to intimidate the boy. And had it been anyone other than Eric, it probably would have worked. But Eric was too used to it. He had been dealing with Stan and his ways since elementary. 

“Excuse me!” A shrill screech filled the hall. Students all around the duo froze as a rather angry bull surged through the crowd. Jade eyes narrowed in on the two frenemies. “Stanley fucking Marsh...I do believe I said to leave him alone.”

“I am!” Stan jerked back quickly, as if he were a child caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. “I was just asking him about homework!”

“You mother fucking liar!” Eric shouted in response.

Of course, it would be his luck that Mr. Garrison (why the fuck he wanted to stay with his class, Eric didn't know) walked by. The man had been quite used to the behavior in elementary. But after an ungodly break up, and changing his gender back to a man...well that had left him pretty fucked emotionally and mentally. He snapped at random things. One day saying a curse in class would pass as a giddy joke, the next day it got you detention with the 'roid using coach.

Never a dull day in South Park.

Luckily, Mr. Garrison seemed to be in his more forgiving mood. He simply walked by the trio, eyes dead and medicated, as he scampered to his classroom.

“Shut the fuck up dude, before we get in trouble for your mouth,” Stan muttered watching the man walk by. The football player was too much of a goody two shoe to handle being in any form of trouble. Hell, he had almost cried when he got detention last semestir because he had shown up to school drunk. 

“I don't give a shit,” Cartman snapped in response.

“Shut up, both you.” Kyle glowered at the two boys standing before him. His own arms crossed over his chest as he popped his hip to the left. He was probably the only male in school that could pull off such a feminine posture and still look damned good.

So good in fact, that Eric's mouth went dry. It was like he had taken a mouthful of sand, and swallowed it until the sand had dried up all of the water in his gullet.

“Stan, leave Cartman the fuck alone.”   
Eric took pause.

Did...

Did Kyle Broflovski just stick up for him?

Okay, so what the fuck?

That wasn't normal. The brunette's head snapped up in confusion at the Jewish boy. Perhaps it was his fever, or maybe it was just something with the weather. Either way, Eric decided it was better to just avoid it all together. Might as well add it to the list. 

Another couple of weeks, and it could probably break the world's records for bottled up problems.

Deciding that he just simply couldn't, Eric turned on the ball of his foot and stormed towards the exit of the school. The thought of getting his GED was starting to look more and more appetizing. At least if he did that, he could still get into school. But graduation was so damn close. Just a couple more months, and he'd be walking across the stage. He'd finally be able to see his mother watch him proudly. She would be emotional, grinning like a dumbass, but Eric would be grinning right along with her. He'd be the first one in his family to properly graduate.

If it took him one day to clear his head, then so be it.

“Eric wait,” Kyle called out rushing down the hall. His hand latched onto the sweater that was too thin, and suddenly, far too hot. He tugged, instigating the slightly older boy to turn. Eric sighed refusing to make eye contact. Instead, he focused his gaze on a locker just past the red curls. His skin was too hot, and still covered in chilled goosebumps. 

“You okay? You don't look too good...” Kyle chewed his bottom lip as he tugged the sleeve of his jacket up. Of course, the fabric slid right back down. He was too thin for his forearms to hold up the loosened fabric. 

“Fine,” Cartman muttered being sure to never look Kyle straight in the face. If he did, he might see a whole new beauty. He might even be able to compare him to the Mona Lisa; lip stuck between his teeth, his brows tightened in concern. He had a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks from the frost and snow that had...shit when had it started snowing?

“Don't lie. C'mon, let's get you to the nurse. If anything, she can write us excuses for being late to class.” 

When the fuck had the bell rung? 

Eric was usually right on top of everything going on. He knew that the final bell for school rung at exactly seven fourty-two. Its shrill ting-ting-ting had been the cause of many a headache. Yet today, apparently it had gone unnoticed.

“Huh...oh...sure?” Eric furrowed his brow glancing around. A deep seated exhaustion began to settle into his shoulders. It ached and burned, weighing him down like a sack of rocks. He didn't protest a bit when Kyle started to tug him off in the direction of the nurse.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!!
> 
> There is some use of homophobic verbiage!
> 
> This is not the view of the author (hence writing m/m) but it fits within the personality of the character stating it.

Chapter 11

January 22nd Con'D

Eric twiddled his thumbs in the lunch room. Kyle sat across from him eating his lunch as if nothing had happened. As if Eric had kissed him and then shoved him away. Hell, the kid had a bruise for it, but he was pushing through it. 

Calmly, Kyle put his utensils down and pushed his tray to the side. 

“So...”Kyle hummed to himself. Eric could see that the other teen was just as long in his own thoughts. But they probably weren't near as panicy as the ones that ran through Cartman's head. Fuck, why now? Why did Kyle have to confront him when he wasn't feeling too good? Of course, he could always blame whatever slipped out of his mouth on the fever. However, doubt and Kenny blocked that thought from even remotely forming in his mind. 

“So he kissed you,” Kenny chirped from his seat as if nothing was wrong. He was enjoying the atmosphere of the table far too much for anyone's comfort. Cheeky blonde shit head.

Kyle choked a bit on air. The redhead's face flushed, and fuck...if the tightening in his jeans was anything, Cartman was definitely fucked for this conversation. Probably both literally and physically.

“Jesus Christ Kenny,” Kyle blustered. He floundered for words before caving in and sighing. “You have no tact.” 

“I don't. That's why I don't understand this whole shit! He kissed you and ran. You kissed him, he still fucking ran. Kiss him again. I'll hold his ass down until it fucking clicks!” Kenny giggled as if it were a plan. Eric glowered at him almost daring the blonde to try it.

“I will fucking kill you, if you so much as grab me right now Poor boy.” Cartman growled. Ah, there he was. Normalcy was starting to come back. Screw the fever. He was Eric fucking Cartman. He was damned positive it even said so on his birth certificate. Right where it said Middle Name: Fucking.

“No, you won't. And no, Ken. That's not how this is going to work.” Kyle sighed brushing a hand over his face. “We're going to talk like the civilized...” He threw a sideways glance and delicately arched brow—like shit did he get them waxed?--at the blonde. “Mostly...Civilized.”

“I resent that statement.” Kenny pouted throwing his chin onto his cross arms like a kicked puppy. The over dramatic boy sighed longingly. As if asking him to keep his mouth shut for a whole ten seconds was too damn much. Althought, knowing him, it probably was killing him inside.

“Get on with it.” Eric grunted unamused by the antics that were taking place. 

“Fine. Why did you kiss me? All these years and you've just...you've made it your job to make me miserable. Is this just some ploy to fuck with my head?” 

Wow. Straight to the point huh? 

“I...Fuck, man. Shit, I don't know.” Eric ran a hand through his hair. His mind wasn't really able to process all that was going on right now, and he knew that if he messed up whatever he was supposed to say right now, he'd be fucked for good. Then again...wasn't that for the better? Wasn't it better if he watched Kyle be happy from the sidelines? It's how he had spent his whole life. He'd watched Kyle grow up and protect his baby brother; watched him go on outings with his dad. Hell, he had fucking video taped his coming out to his parents and cheered Sheila on when she had slapped the shit out of her son. It had thrilled him to see the tears build up behind his eyes. And yet, when he had gone home after the blow up, his heart had hurt. His chest had ached and he had confronted his mom convinced he was having some kind of a heart attack.

Six hours laters, and the doctors had confirmed that it was probably some anxiety.

Kyle Broflovski had caused Eric Cartman to have an anxiety attack because he was...he was what?

He was in love with him?

He had a crush on him?

Holy fucking shit.

Eric's eyes widened a bit as he glanced up at the red head sitting across from him. His eyebrows furrowed as he tumbled the words around in his mouth.

“I uh..Shit...” His voice pitched and cracked slightly.

“Yea,” Kyle sighed softly mirroring his movements. A slight blush fell across his cheek bones as he glared at the table. “That's kinda what I thought. Bebe told Wendy about the party...what you did for me. Said you got Kenny to drive me home,” He glanced up at the brunette as if asking for confirmation.

Eric grimaced but nodded. There was no need to lie anymore. Too much had been exposed. 

“I just...I wanted to thank you Eric...I appreciate you taking care of me, and looking out for me. But...I shouldn't have kissed you,” Kyle sighed softly; as if what he was saying was hurting him to do it. 

Eric steeled himself—allowed his facial expression to pan out into nothing. If he showed nothing, then Kyle had nothing on him. He was prepared for this. He knew it would come eventually. 

“I'm sorry,” Kyle pursed his lips as he watched the boy across from him shut down. “I'm really sorry Eric. But I'm...”He glanced over his shoulder lightly to a certain raven haired boy who was gushing stupidly over a raven haired female. “I'm with someone else.” Kyle muttered before glancing down into his lap as if ashamed to admit.

“I figured he'd be your fudge packer,” Eric snapped straightening himself up. “Whatever...then get the fuck up from this table and leave me alone Kike. You too poor boy!” Kenny yelped jerking back, jutting his bottom lip out. He wouldn't leave though. He knew when Eric was having a break down, and he would stay in an attempt to help the boy through it. 

Not that it would help a lot. 

Not with the way his chest was aching, and the way his hands were starting to shake. 

“Fuck this,” Eric snapped at nothing. He leapt up from his spot at the table and stormed out of the cafeteria for what seemed like the millionth time that month. Fucking hell, would he ever get to have a normal lunch at school again? He had avoided the redhead, and then he learned he enjoyed sitting alone, but misery follows him everywhere.

“Eric wait!” Kenny called out, shooting a confused look at the redhead. “What the fuck? I thought you liked him back?” 

Eric didn't stay around long enough to hear the answer. There was no need to. 

It had all been set into motion. 

His hands slammed into the front doors of the school as he stormed out and towards his car. His fingers fumbled for the keys lost in one of the pockets of his cargo pants.

“Eric, wait!” Kenny huffed skidding to a halt and nearly busting his ass on the black ice that littered the parking lot. “Carmtna,” He groaned leaning forward, hands resting on his knees. Even if he was quite a bit thinner than the brunette, he wasn't in the shape to chase anyone. In fact, he probably couldn't afford to burn the calories. “Dude, it wasn't supposed to go like that.” 

“Well, it fucking did. So it doesn't matter, now does it? He knows how I fucking feel, and I'm the one biting the fucking dust.” Eric crossed his arms glaring harshly at nothing. He had momentarily given up on finding his keys. “Jesus christ Kenny,” Tears welled in his brown eyes as he nearly collapsed against the car. “Jesus fucking Christ Ken...things were fine. Things were how they were supposed to be. He hated me, and I was okay with that. Why did you have to get involved?!”

“I'm sorry...” Kenny bit his bottom lip as he watched the larger boy punch the door of his car. “I didn't...Everything he had said...I didn't know Stan had asked...I thought for sure...”

“You fucking thought? Kenny that doesn't mean anything when it comes to Stan! That fucking kike would die for that arrogant fucker!” His voice broke in the middle, and that pissed him off more. He was supposed to be the one in control. He had insurmountable ammounts of blackmail on the Jewish boy, and yet all it took was a simple rejection? 

“I'm sorry,” Kenny whispered stepping forward. He reached out and grabbed Cartman's hand softly. “I didn't want you to get hurt,” He glanced up at the brown eyes as his own shoulders drooped. Kenny had never seen so much hurt in his friends eyes. “I'm so fucking sorry,” He leaned in and pressed his lips against Eric's.

That gave the brunette pause.

Because what the fuck?

Was the whole fucking town just fulll of fags?

Jesus fucking Christ, what was he going to do now?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for some violence. It doesn't go into detail, but just so everyone knows and can't blame the author!

Chapter 12

January 24th

Eric did his best to dodge everyone he had ever associated with. His mind was reeling with thoughts and processes; trying to digest everything that had happened that month. Hell, he had a hard time digesting everything that had happened just that week. He couldn't look Kenny in the eye, and ignored Kyle at all costs. He hadn't even insulted his red hair or his jewishness.

Everyone in the school knew that something huge had happened. But he would be damned if anyone knew exactly what.

Eric Cartman would die before he let anyone else figure out that he was not a hard pressed asshole. He could not, and certainly would not, suffer the reaction and pity that came with people knowing he had feelings. Or that they had hurt him...a lot.

But, life must go on.

So with his head bowed, he entered the hallways between classes. His eyes glanced about, but quickly flickered to the ground when he noticed a familiar orange hoodie. He jerked his shoulder back as they passed so they wouldn't touch. He pretended not to notice that hurt that flashed across Kenny's face. 

His feet kept walking.

His world kept spinning.

He kept hating himself for the way things had turned out. If he could have just figured out a way to keep his feelings under lock and key, Kyle wouldn't know. If he hadn't gotten upset, and made Kenny thought..Thought what? He hadn't recalled ever leading Kenny on, or letting the blonde believe he was interested in anything that wasn't friendship. Sure, he had talked to him and gone to him whenever he needed someone who woud listen. 

But maybe that was it. Maybe Kenny was a lot more like him than he thought. Maybe Kenny was just as desperate for someone's attention that he would take any cue to get an in. And that made Eric feel even worst about the whole situation. Had his friend desperately been needing him to realize something? 

Shit, that was a part of his whole facade. 

Eric Cartman noticed and knew everything about everyone. He had little bugs in everyone's house, and could sit in his room and watch it through his laptop. A lie, obviously, no one in South Park kept their shit bussiness to themselves. But no one thought they were being that loud.

So what was he to do? 

He could entertain Kenny for a bit. Maybe he could get a good lay out of the blonde, ease some sexual tension that had been building up. 

Nope.

That ball of guilt grew about ten times with that thought. 

Fuck, why was feeling so hard?

Maybe he'd just get bitch ass wasted tonight. Let that clear his head—or really fog it up enough that he wouldn't be able to think about it properly.

Or maybe, he could actually give Kenny a try. Sure, his heart thudded in his chest for Kyle, but that had all been conditioned over time hadn't it? Couldn't he do the same thing for Kenny?

Would it be fair to both of them?

He wouldn't love Kenny...that would probably be too much to ask for. But if the blonde wanted someone to cuddle and snuggle up to...Eric wasn't exactly opposed. 

“Eric?” A voice broke through the enclosure that was the brunette's thoughts. “Hey,” A hand reached out and tugged on his jacket. The boy gave pause and turned, only to be met with black eyes and hair so dark it was annoying. Wendy fucking Testaburger. “You okay?” Her brows were furrowed in worry, and holy fuck. Why did everyone care?

“Fine,” Eric snapped jerking his arm back from her grip. He wanted to be away from her, and everyone else in the god forsaken school. 

“Don't lie,” Wendy sighed stepping closer to the larger boy. “You're as broken a music player...” Her arms crossed over her chest. The oversized sweater was tugged in to hug her body just the slightest. “I think we need to talk.”

“You can think all you want, bitch. It isn't going to make it happen any faster.” He growled turning away from her. He really had never liked the raven haired bitch. In fact, when she hooked up with stan, he was pretty damn happy. It freed him up from any of her focus, so she couldn't berate him on how unethical he was.

Or perhaps he hated her because she could read between the lines. Much like Kyle could...when he actually wanted. For some reason, though, the redhead seemed to ignore every bit of information that Eric had slipped in between his own lines. 

“No, Eric.” Wendy followed the brunette down the hall towards his own class. “We need to talk. Meet me after school in the parking lot. I'm skipping my beta club tonight.” Her lips pursed as she glowered at him. 

No getting out of it then.

Eric shrugged non-comittaly and continued his strides down the hall. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have to meet him at his truck as soon as school let out. And even then, she would probably have to be a bit forceful. The brunette could be just as stubborn about avoiding everyone when he wanted to.

When school came to an end, Eric was very disappointed to see two people standing by his truck. Both had black hair, and one was visibly annoyed. Well, wasn't he about to ruin their day.

“Get the fuck away from my truck,” Eric muttered as he rounded the vehicle. He paused momentarily when he spotted the red mark on Wendy's cheek, and lord help him. He saw red. 

There were few things that Eric Cartman absolutely hated. Hitting women, even if they annoyed the shit out of him, was one of those things. He had witnessed the abuse of his mother often enough, that he knew the kind of men that rested behind the hand that dealt the blow. It disgusted him to no end; the type of disgust that made him want to send whoever hit a woman flying into an enternal abyss. Call him old fashioned, anti-feminism, or whatever you will. It was a peeve.

And before Eric could even get a grasp on the situation, he turned and flung his fist straight into the face of Stanley Marsh. 

But he didn't stop there.

He followed the teenager down to the ground and laid into him. His rage from everything, the embarassment, the rejection, Kenny fucking kissing him, him just not knowing what to do. It was all Stan's fault in that moment, and the fucking bitch was going to know it.

“Eric!” Wendy screamed from somewhere behind him. But he didn't stop. He flung his fist into Stan's nose, then to his cheek. He wrapped a hand just under the teens chin and held him in place. Stan reached out with his own clenched fist. “Eric, stop!” Hands reached out to grab him. 

That only enraged him more.

Eric Cartman was fucking done.

He rounded on the person who had grabbed him, hand ready for the attack.

And then he saw green eyes.

And shit, were they on fire.

Kyle Broflovski wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

And he was fucking beautiful.

Holy shit.

Eric paused, his breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the fierce eyes. He snorted out a puff of warm air as his adrenaline started coming down. The trembling started in his fist, which throbbed in a dull pain, before making its way to his shoulders.

“Get in the fucking car.” Kyle whispered glaring heatedly at the brunette. “And give me your fucking keys.” He held out his thin hand as if expecting the larger boy to drop the keys into it—like he was a trained pet. And god damnit, if he wasn't, then he was damn good at acting like it.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

January 24th Con'D

Eric sat in silence as Kyle sped down the twists and turns of some road that Eric hadn't memorized. His finger tapped at the steering wheel as he stared ahead. He was still obviously pissed. His lips pursed angrily as he glared at the road—Eric was sure that had the pavement been a person, they would have gone up in flames. 

Yet, Eric couldn't turn his eyes off the redhead. There was something about the way that his face still splotchy from the bursting of small vessels in his face. Or the way his eyes were still flickering with a deep seated rage for something that probably should have been solved with sitting down and actually talking.

Oh wait.

They had tried that.

Eric sighed and glanced out the side window to watch the trees pass instead.

“He didn't hit her,” Kyle hissed, his fingers wrapped tighter around the wheel. “That was me. She pissed me off.”

“You shouldn't hit a woman,” Eric bristled. Rarely would he stand up for anyone. At least not in front of a group of his peers. And yet...

“Then I guess it's a good thing she isn't a woman,” Kyle growled back. He turned the wheel sharply, pulling the truck off to the side of a road. “She's a bitch who can't handle someone else being happy.”

“Sounds familiar enough,” Eric grunted throwing his door open. He climbed out, eyes glancing over the seemingly endless sea of trees; pines, spruces, leafless oaks, cedar. It would have been any nature loving hippies dream. In its own sense, it was beautiful. To Eric Cartman, it was proof of his entrapment. No one left South Park, and there was a reason. How could they? How could they manage to find their way out of a town that was surrounded by trees that looked so damn similar?

“Cartman,” Kyle sighed brushing a hand over his face. “I didn't...”He walked around the truck and leaned against the hood. The engine underneath sizzled and hissed with released heat and energy. “I didn't bring you out here so we could fight about what is right or wrong about what happened. Because you were just as wrong as I was.”

“It doesn't fucking matter. It's done. You're a woman hitter, don't let it stain your perfect reputation.” The brunette crossed his arms over his chest. If he looked like a child he didn't particularly care. He could be a damned petulant brat for what it was worth. If it got his point across, then he was not above it.

“Cartman,” Kyle hissed. His red curls bristled on end as if he preparing for an attack. Hell, if Eric had the energy, he probably would have been revving for some more fist on face action. With everything that he had bottled up—rather unhealthily—the tension was getting really close to bubbling over. Hell, Eric could already feel the bubbles sliding up his throat and oozing out of his pores.  
“I don't want to fight,” Kyle sighed softly. He closed his eyes, and let his hands drop to his waist. His shoulders slumped forward, and everything about him screamed defeat. “I'm actually really tired of fighting, if I'm honest with myself.”

“You're tired of fighting? So what? Why does that matter to me?” Play it selfishly. That's what he expects. That's what he deserves, because Eric had tried to be selfless with him. He had done his part of keeping Kyle safe from himself and from others. 

“Because, you fucking fatass!” Kyle snapped turning to glare at him. Or at least, he had intially meant to. But there was something about Eric's face. Something there that meant Eric wasn't actually looking for a fight. He was pretending to be an asshole because that's exactly what the redhead expected. “Because...I...”He brushed his hand through his hair and worried his lip. He was fighting for the right words to say.

“Because you don't know how to feel?” The brunette sighed moving to stand beside the man who had driven them to the middle of a mountain when they could have gone to anywhere in South Park. “Because you've got so much resting on you that you're afraid? Guess what Broflovski...You're not the only one.” 

“I know...”Kyle nodded solemnly. “I know...I've been selfish...but...”

“But nothing. You have to accept it,” Eric sighed and pushed himself against the truck. The pressure of the metal on his back eased some of his anxiety. “Or else you can't move on. You'll be trapped in this endless circle.”

“Like you?” Kyle turned pursing his lips. He placed himself in front of the brunette. “You kissed me that day...and when I kissed you back you shoved me.”

“I did what was best.” Eric clenched his jaw and stared forward. If he didn't look into those intoxicating eyes, then he wouldn't fall. He wouldn't cave in to the intense desire to see them closed in a pleasure that he knew he could bring. 

“How do you know what's best in a situation that involves two people?”

“Because, Broflovski...You're supposed to hate me with a burning passion because I'm an asshole.”

“I hated you with a burning passion because you were an asshole. And then Kenny started opening up his stupid mouth, and telling me that you're not. He told me that someone else had drugged me at the party and probably would have had a hell of a lot of fun if you hadn't got him.”

“And we come back to that,” A pressure headache was starting to form behind his eyes. He was walking in circles and picking up the pace. He'd get nowhere if he let the conversation continue, and he's get there pretty damn fast and exhausted. “It was a fluke.”

“Was it though? Because I've been watching you Eric,” Kyle leaned in as if he could intimidate the larger boy into a submissive state. “And you're not what everyone thinks. I've gone back and thought about a lot of the stupid shit you did in elementary school, and in junior high, and when we were freshman. And I noticed something...”

The pressure built. The pain was starting to split his head. It jabbed into his brain with a finality. This conversation was going to be the end of him. He wanted to end it. His heart was beating too fast. His blood pressure was starting to sky rocket.

“I noticed that you're not an asshole. You just wanted attention.” Kyle shoved a finger into his chest. Instead of pulling it back, to shove it back again, he left it. Instead of shoving it through his chest and straight into his heart, Kyle rested his entire hand on his chest. “You just...”

“I love you.” Eric spat.

Oh there it goes.

His heart stopped in his chest.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Nope he was still alive. What the fuck Death? If someone's heart stops, that should automatically mean they're dead.

Kyle floundered for a moment. He drowned under the weight of what was said, but he regained his posture rather quickly. Certainly, faster than Cartman was gathering himself. 

But fuck it.

He could be a mess for once in his life.

It was too exhausting always being put together, held tight only with a thing strand of floss. Pull it too tight, and it'd slice his skin and make him bleed. Loosen it, and the cavities would sink in. Eventually, he'd break down like a tooth and dissolve into nothing.

Like he was currently doing.

“You what?”

“I'm not saying it again.”

“Eric...I...”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, you shut the fuck up! You don't get to just blurt shit like that!” Kyle threw his hands up nearly losing his balance in the process. Out of instinct, Eric reached out and tugged the redhead snug against his chest. It was only meant to stop him from falling. It was only...Oh fuck it. Eric kissed Kyle...again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys...It's been a lot of fun! All of the conflicts had fixed themselves in this chapter, and I don't think it would be wise to try and force a few more chapters out! I hope everyone has enjoyed it! And I want to thank everyone who has commented and left kudos! It's been really inspirational to hear from everyone! Hopefully, you all will return if/when I post a new story!
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> -Love,  
> Forthelore

Chapter 14

January 26th

Eric was feeling pretty on top of the world—finally. Kyle hadn’t officially asked him out, but hey, he had a damn good make out session with him. It would have lead to more, but Kyle was still a virgin prude that didn’t plan to let it get much past a hot make out.

And Eric was okay with that.

The only thing that could make it better was confronting Kenny and having it all turn out okay. 

Lucky for him, Kenny had the same idea. The blonde waited for him on the front steps of the school. His hands twiddled nervously as he paced back and forth. Even from afar, Eric could tell that something was up. His blue eyes kept glancing up nervously at the parking lot; seeking out the brunette.

“Hey,” Eric hummed quietly stepping up to the orange parka. Kenny nearly jumped out of his skin. His pallor had gone almost translucent.

“Hey,” Kenny whispered glancing around anxiously. 

Kenny had never been an anxious person. He had never sat around and twiddled his thumbs biting his lip as if he didn’t know what to say or do. The blonde had always been as bright as the sun; shining in a brilliancy that had always blinded the brunette. It gave him anxiety to think that maybe the sun Kenny had always been, was crashing and burning. That was not something that Eric could deal with.

“You okay?” Eric grunted making sure to keep his face neutral and as unemotional as possible. Kenny always reacted better when he thought he was talking a board. Eric could understand. The blonde had never been an open book, no matter how much people thought otherwise. They could claim to know Kenny better than he knew himself, but they would always be surprised when Kenny was self destructive, or self depreciating.

Eric knew though. He understood better than anyone how it felt for people to assume they knew you. He had lived that profile for so long, that Eric began to believe what people were saying. Kenny had been there for his blow up—had pulled him up from his own ashes and helped him rebuild himself.

Kenny had kissed him, and it had made things awkward. But, by the looks of it, the blonde wanted to explain it. He looked like he wanted to make up and explain, and Eric owed him no less than an ear to listen. 

“About the other day….” Kenny sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. All of his anxiety rested in his tense shoulders and his wandering feet. “About...”

“Calm down,” Eric grabbed his friend by the shoulders and tugged him into a hug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“I..you do?” Kenny glanced up. He had his lip pinned between his teeth. “Because...I...I panicked. You looked so sad and confused and...”

“And you wanted to help me by fixing it. I know,” Eric nodded his head softly. His hand patted the blonde’s back, probably a little harder than it should. But Kenny needed it. He needed that confirmation that he hadn’t done anything to cause Eric to hate him.

And Eric would offer him that small comfort whenever he needed it.

“I...So we’re cool? We’re still friends?” 

“Of course, dude.” Eric snorted rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna hate you just because I gave you a boner. Have you seen me? I’m damn fine.”

This time Kenny laughed. It was the type of laugh that caused him to throw his head back, and his shoulders to shake. It was the kind of laugh that meant all of the anxiety and stress he had bundled up was released. The kind of laugh that made him more radiant and sunny than he had been. Eric would do anything to keep Kenny like that. The blonde deserved it.

“Shut the hell up,” Kenny clapped Eric on his shoulder before breathing deeply to calm himself. “For real though, thanks.” 

“No problem.” Eric nodded draping his arm over the blonde’s shoulder. “Now lets get inside before the bell rings. I don’t want to be late. I’ve missed enough school this month.”

Even lunch went smoothly. Kyle had eased into the seat beside him and slipped his hand, secretively, into Eric’s while he put food into his mouth. Kenny had kicked his shin with the worlds widest, shit eating grin. Eric simply rolled his eyes, squeezing Kyle’s hand twice before digging into his own food.

And it was good.

Everything, for once in quite a long time, was good.

A lot had changed, and probably for the better. Kyle had an inkling of just who Eric really was. Hell, they weren’t exactly dating, but they weren’t exactly not dating either. They’d figure it out. If Kyle just wanted a fuck toy, well...Eric would be happy to do that for him too. Who wouldn’t?

Kenny was back on track with who he was and where he needed to be. It had been one of the biggest reliefs of Eric’s life. Even if he wouldn’t admit that he was pretty damned worried about his friend. But that was par the course when one had to play the world’s biggest asshole.

But the best part, was that he was happy.

And that was something that he hadn’t been in a very long time.


End file.
